


Heaven's Cell Phone Plan Sucks

by stone_in_focus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Friendship/Love, Internal Monologue, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Second Person, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_in_focus/pseuds/stone_in_focus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were so much easier before Dean became a praying man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven's Cell Phone Plan Sucks

Sometimes, you wonder how you turned into such a schmuck. A dupe, really. Because it used to be so easy when God and those winged bastards didn’t exist and you didn’t give a jolly rat’s ass about it. Hey, if Sam and Bobby wanted to take a knee and bend over, that was their business. But you? Naw, you’d rather choke down an entire fucking salad bar than buy into that bullshit.

Yeah. Used to be so easy when you didn’t  _believe._

Your world was a lot smaller back then, but now it’s big. So fucking big that it’s funny how hard it is to find the room to breathe. Funny in the way that you feel it in the ribs like when Cas took a hot iron to your insides and branded you with Enochian jibberish, only this kinda sting’s not gonna go away after a week of having a couple more heart-to-hearts with Mr. Jack Daniel's than usual.

Thinkin’ you were out there all by your lonesome—that was fine by you. Knowing you aren’t and still not getting any answers…

Fuck that noise, man.

You’ve bent the truth more than a few times. Hell, not just bent; you’ve screwed it over. But the times you coughed it up to Cas that you’d been praying to him all night? Every night? Least that’s one sin that can’t be counted against you. And you can’t help but ask yourself—does the dude even remember? ‘Cause it wasn’t just a matter of sending up a  _Hey, Cas, could really use some backup here_ once in a while. No, man, you…fuck, you spilled your fucking guts out to him about… _everything._  Not just the crap and the kind of things that’d normally make you puke, but the good things, too. ‘Bout Mom and those early morning breakfasts she’d make you before anyone else was awake; that time you got into so much shit after Dad caught you sneaking Sammy into a rated-R flick; the look on Cas’ face when you took ‘im to that strip joint—never gonna get over that.

Shit, one time, you even tried to bribe Cas with a game of Twister. ‘Kay, maybe more like ten times.

You told him he would’ve liked Mom. You’re even more sure she would’ve liked him; said something about how his weird squinty eyes were kinda cute. And you would’ve just cleared your throat and scratched the back of your ear, but hell, you were thinkin’ the same thing, too. And though you swear you’d never admit it to another soul, that whole little soliloquy might’ve ended in fourteen rounds of “Hey Jude” because it made you feel like angels were watching over you again.

And also maybe because you were drunk on bottom-dwelling moonshine.

Benny probably figured you for certifiable, having to put up with all your rambling. But hope makes a guy desperate, and praying…

Well, praying’s got you fucking tore up, man.

Pathetic thing was, you didn’t stop when you found out Cas got grounded. ‘Cause maybe you got a little too used to talking to him. ‘Cause maybe in a really messed up, creepy imaginary friend kinda way, it’s one of the only things that makes you feel…you don’t know. Ugh, you’re gonna toss up last week’s lunch just thinking about it.  _Close_  to someone, okay?

Ain’t you a real piece of work, Winchester? Go all your life actin’ like you’re some sort of tough S.O.B. who wouldn’t be caught dead snorting fairy dust, and now you’re the one taking a knee, one eye peeped over your shoulder. You sure as hell hope Cas was on the level when he told you he got his mojo back. Praying’s starting to feel a little too much like white-knuckling it at 120 miles in the dark without knowing where you’re gonna end up.

And then your heart stops when your phone rings.

"You heard me?" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. Once it manages to get past the lump in your throat.

"Yes. I presume you’re at the bunker now?"

"Ye-yeah." The sound of Cas’ voice is less comforting than you’d like. You were so anxious for a sign that you forgot how talking to him’s a bit like being manhandled by a doctor who never bothers to warm up his hands. You don’t say it, but that doesn’t stop you from rolling the words on the edge of your tongue.  _God, Cas, if there was ever a moment I needed you here more…_

"Give me 24 hours. Maybe less. The bus schedules are highly sporadic out here, but I believe I may be able to find one that departs yet today. Then we can figure out how to track down Sam."

And instead of cussing up a storm and telling him that this time, it isn’t just about finding a solution or some kind of fix—’cause you know your broke ass can’t be fixed—your dumb ass actually plays it straight. “Yeah…yeah, okay, Cas. That’s, uh…that’s good. Whatever you can do.”

"Dean."

"What?"

"I know I haven’t always answered. But I always hear you. Even though I don’t understand your inebriated chanting or who this Jude fellow is."

Holy shit. He  _does_  remember. “Cas–”

"Dean, I’m sorry. I have to go."

It’s all silence after the line goes dead, and it has a way of making you realize just how friggin’ sick and tired you are of grasping at thin air. Putting something out there and never knowing if you’re gonna get it back.

Because truth is, maybe it’s becoming less about believing in and needing somebody.

And more about wanting them.


End file.
